Blue Skies and Sunshine
by The Croc Shop
Summary: A completed collection of vignettes. Tiana and Naveen honeymoon, work on their restaurant, discuss fashion and finances, and in one universe, attend Hogwarts.
1. Bare

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

**Blue Skies and Sunshine** is a collection of _The Princess and the Frog_ vignettes: short stories, generally just one scene, that I couldn't justify posting on their own. I'd rather not spam y'all with these tiny things. There's no real continuity at work here, and these vignettes aren't arranged in any chronological order. Just the order in which I wrote them.

This piece is set after Tiana and Naveen's human wedding.

* * *

**Bare**

* * *

Beneath his cheek, her breast rose and fell; her heart beat a quick tattoo, now slowing. She carded her fingers through his hair, short and even nails scratching his scalp, thumb parting the sweat at his temple. The thin skin of her wrist, which passed now before his eyes: that, he kissed.

"You sure know what you're doing," Tiana said.

"A natural talent," he demurred. "New even to myself."

"Y'all certain about that?" That arch note in her voice like a song, or a challenge. Perhaps both.

"I will say nothing else," he said, reaching to cover his heart, but settling for spreading his fingers over her belly, sweat-bright and shivering. "Only that I'm very excited to pursue it, with, of course, your able and--" He smoothed his hand down the swell of her hip. "--very lovely assistance."

"Silver-tongued frog."

A small and secret crease in her cheek, revealed when she smiled at him in that certain way: he wanted to kiss that, too; that, and the fold of skin high upon her thigh, and the dimples in her knees. The glossy scar inside her elbow, where grease had burned its mark. The rough skin of her palm.

How many women had he loved, with his body if not his heart?

Naveen rose onto his elbow and her hand slid down his shoulder; her fingertips brushed his arm. Carefully, he tucked an errant curl, dark and gleaming, behind her ear. He lingered there, touching her cheek.

"I may not have told you this," he said, "but I love you."

Her cheek dimpled. "You might have mentioned it a while ago. Once or twice."

"Yes," Naveen said, "I remember now."

Tiana rubbed his arm from shoulder to elbow, then back up again. Beneath him she shifted, her hip rolling, thigh pressing against him.

"You could tell me again," she said, soft. "If you want to."

"I could, yes," he agreed. "As many times as you so desire. We don't even have to be naked."

"You got a problem with naked?" said Tiana, as she twined her fingers in his hair.

"None whatsoever," said Naveen.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/12/2009.


	2. Soft Hands

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

This piece is set during the epilogue, when Tiana and Naveen (and perhaps a few others) go about renovating the old mill.

* * *

**Soft Hands**

* * *

"You know, I must say," Naveen said, "I didn't realize labor was so laborious. Or so painful."

Tiana rolled her eyes heavenward.

She cradled his hand in her lap, broad palm turned face up, long fingers uncurled, his arm heavy on her thigh. "Try to stay still," she said. "This might hurt some."

"I shall endure," he said, so noble, so brave, "with such dignity as aa-_amaatarul_, what is this--" He snatched his hand back; he pressed it to his chest.

Tiana turned the tweezers on him. "Stop squirming," she said. "I can't dig these splinters out if you keep wriggling around."

"Pardon," said Naveen, "but I do not squirm. I don't wriggle, either, thank you."

"Well, whatever it is you were just doing?" She poked his shoulder. "Don't do it. Now give me your hand."

"Torturer," he said, "I won't forget your cruelty," but he held his hand out to her.

She bent over his fingers, picking gingerly at his palm. His fingers twitched, curling, then straightening. Tiana bit down on her smile.

She drew a splinter out of the thick pad at the base of his thumb. "Whatever happened to those gloves I gave you?"

"Those horrible things?" said Naveen. He made a face; his tongue flashed between his teeth. "They were too tight and they made my hands all sweaty."

"And that was worse than this?" Tiana shook his wrist.

"Yes, all right, I've learned my lesson, Madam Fusspants," he said. "There's no need to go over it again. I bow to your wisdom, next time I will remember to wear the horrid gloves, et cetera. Does that satisfy you?"

"Good enough for now," she said. "Your other hand, please, Mister Fusspants."

"O-ho," he said, "that was clever. Because we're married. Be gentle," he said, as he switched hands, "this is all I ask."

Tiana stroked his palm, so much wider, so much heavier than her own, the skin so smooth.

"I'll do my best," she said.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/13/2009.


	3. Light Touch

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Oh, my gosh! Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read these and reviewed and favorited and oh, my gosh, I did not expect this at all. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you. I'm so very glad you're enjoying these and I hope, very much so, that you will continue to enjoy them. Thank you.

This particular piece is set during the epilogue, while they're still renovating the sugar mill.

* * *

**Light Touch**

* * *

Tiana collapsed onto the bed, thoroughly graceless. Littered across the floor behind her she

left a trail of stockings and shoes, one here, another far over there. She stretched her arms and then her legs, and arched her back and groaned.

"I see," said Naveen. "Tell me more."

"I feel like my feet are going to fall off," she said. She cracked her toes and sighed, long and low. "Any particular reason why you're still standing?"

"I'm merely admiring my unbearably beautiful wife," he said. "And hardworking. She's very hardworking as well, I should say."

She tucked her knees up to her chest, to give him room to sit beside her. Tiana smiled at him, a worn out smile that lit up her eyes and softened the downward cast of her brow.

"That's a very good answer."

"Thank you, I thought so, too." He settled next to her.

Tiana sighed again, then reached down to grip her foot. A dark curl spilled across her brow, and her mouth, at its corners, turned down.

Naveen covered her wrist. "Allow me."

Such a startled look she gave him. Her eyebrow arched. "Allow you what?"

"Your feet," he said, as if to say: is it not obvious? He smiled very bright, very charming. "I'll take care of them for you. It is my duty as your husband to help you in any way," he said, pious.

Her other eyebrow arched; what a pair.

"Have you ever in your life massaged anyone's feet?"

"When you say it like that," he said, "no. But how hard can it be? You just do that thing with your thumbs and--" He gestured.

"That's one way, I suppose." She raised her eyes to the newly plastered ceiling, but her foot she dropped onto his thigh. "All right," she said, "since you're offering. Work your magic."

Naveen rolled up his sleeves; he flourished his fingers.

"Prepare yourself," he said, "for pleasure."

Tiana wiggled her toes at him. "Consider me prepared," she said. She tipped her head, black hair a tangle at her throat. "That is, whenever you feel like getting to it."

"So impatient," he muttered.

He took her foot up in his hands and considered it: the smallness of it, the delicate bones, the tension manifest in the arch. Experimentally, he ran his thumb very lightly up the arch. Her foot jerked in his hand; her leg quivered and so did her shoulders: Tiana huffed a laugh out through her nose.

He did it again and Tiana said, "Stop that, I'm--" She smothered her giggle in her hands. Over her fingers, she fixed him with a glare with which no doubt she intended to intimidate.

"Well!" said Naveen. "That is very interesting. Tell me, have you always been ticklish here?"

He stroked the fragile arch of her foot, tracing the curve with his thumb. Her toes curled; her ankle flexed, bowing. She covered her face, but alas, how small her effort; it spilled out between her fingers, that low, sweet laugh. He ran his hand up her leg, cupping her calf where it was plumpest in his palm.

The indented trail which ran low on her toes: he followed that with his finger, a light touch that had her laughing still and shaking beneath him, her eyes now lidding.

Naveen clicked his tongue. "And here, as well."

She crooked her toes and drew her leg back, but oh, he was too quick for her. He followed, sliding his hand up to spread out upon her thigh, broad and yes, so lovely.

Tiana turned her face to her shoulder. She smiled sidelong at him, eyes half-lidded and lashes a curtain falling over her dark, warm eyes. Much too artless to be coy. Naveen's heart pinched.

"So many things you've kept secret from me," he said lightly.

"It didn't really seem all that important," she said. "What with the hopping for our lives and the shadow man, and the weddings and all."

"Ha!" said Naveen. "No, it's just so funny how you think this when you're so very wrong. This is of the utmost importance."

Tiana swung her knee; she nudged his hip, then rested there.

"I didn't realize you felt so strongly about a little tickling."

"If we're to make this marriage work, my princess," he said to her, "there must be no secrets between us. We must be honest with each other. Forthcoming, even."

"Now is that so?" she said.

Tiana rose up beneath him. She set her hands on his shoulders and pushed, not hard at all, and obligingly, he went over onto his back. Tiana threw a leg over him; she straddled his chest, her work skirt rucked high on her thighs.

"Let's see how you like it," she said.

She slipped her fingers down his sides, etching out where his ribs ought to be through his shirt: a fluttering touch, now here, now gone. His chest tightened. Naveen took in a breath, then let it out.

"Do you enjoy disappointment? You must." He cupped her hips and drew her nearer still. "I think you'll find I'm quite insensitive."

She leaned over him, her hands warm now on his shoulders. "I think you're more sensitive than you know."

"Oh," he said, as she settled upon him, "how wrong you are. You are so wrong."

"We'll just see about that," said Tiana.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/15/2009.


	4. C'est L'amour

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Thank you, again, to everyone who has read these stories. I'm really, seriously, no lie blown away by the response. Thank you so, so much. I'm so glad you're enjoying them and, as before, I hope you will continue to enjoy them! Thank you, as well, to everyone who has reviewed: thank you, thank you. You guys are _awesome_.

So Chira (**halcyonjazz** on livejournal) goes, "I kept expecting Naveen to do that Addams Family kiss-up-the-arm-of-adoration thing," and I go, "So, uh, I'm writing that." So I did.

This is set after the film by a few months.

* * *

**C'est L'amour**

* * *

Tiana didn't think she'd ever get the Maldoniz language down, but a word here and there or a simple phrase or two: that she could do. She went over the words she wanted again and again, and held them tightly under her tongue 'til she thought she could them justice. No sense in doing it half wrong when she could do it all right.

Late night, after hours, toward the end of spring, they ate together on the balcony outside the restaurant, watching the lights go by on the river. Naveen snuck bits off her plate and she let him, pretending not to see. The restaurant was quiet mostly, the doors locked, all the lights but one shut off, everyone else gone but the two of them. No music to dance to, but she held her hand out to him anyway.

She hadn't planned to say it then, but: Naveen sketched out a square with his feet, checking the balcony for pebbles, little things that might trip them up. His hair fell into his eyes, curls too long now. The restaurant was dark, but the stars were bright, and the river glittered and New Orleans beside it, and all that light seemed to settle in his hair or along his bending shoulders. He hummed, off-key but not by much.

"I think tonight we should try the Lindy Hop--"

"Naveen," she said.

He turned to her, close enough she could slide her hand down his arm. Tiana kept her hands to herself.

She said, just about as gracefully as she'd ever manage, "Lanonza di acibra tam."

Naveen stilled, then: he took a step closer and caught her hand in his own; he twined his fingers with hers. He brought her knuckles to his lips.

"Say it again," he said, the words hot on her skin.

"It was only--" Her heart pressed hard against her ribs; it beat against her breast. "All I said was I love you. I didn't say it wrong, did I?" Those dratted tenses.

"No," he said, clasping her hand, "no, no, you were beautiful. Perfect. Amazing. Your mastery of the subject-verb agreement is especially stunning." He pressed her hand to his cheek. "But please, say it again."

"Naveen," she said, laughing.

He dropped a kiss on her wrist, where her pulse trembled. "Please."

In the shallow pool of light which gathered on the balcony, his eyes gleamed: dark, the pupils swollen, but shining, too.

"Well," she said, drawing it out. "You did ask nicely."

He smiled against her wrist. "Please and everything."

"I suppose I could give it another shot," she allowed.

"I eagerly await your shooting," he said, "but please aim carefully."

She traced his cheek, following the ridge of bone. "Lanonza," she said, with care.

Naveen grasped her wrist; he slipped his hand up her arm and turned it over. He pressed a fleeting, burning kiss to the soft skin there and another warm kiss above that.

"Di," she said.

Three more kisses sprinkled up her arm, each longer than the one before. He dawdled over the last, his lips parted, his breath whispering across her skin. Tiana swallowed a laugh.

"Please," he said. She felt his smile, hidden in the crook of her elbow. "Continue."

She touched his shoulder, which bowed.

"Acibra," she said.

Every syllable, another kiss, prickling her skin. He rose, brushing his lips here, then higher, his hand sweeping aside her sleeve, so thin and gauzy. He nuzzled her shoulder, idling there. She shivered and under her fingers, twisted up in his jacket, she felt it pass through him, too.

"Almost there," he said, now at her throat.

"Tam," she breathed out.

Naveen framed her face in his hands. He kissed her, soft and pleasing, his thumbs drawing warm circles on her cheeks. Tiana hooked her fingers in his lapels, drawing him down, dragging him near. He stumbled and fell against her, and laughed into her mouth.

"That good, huh?" she said.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Very much so. I might kiss you again, that's how good."

Tiana brushed the curls back from his brow. He leaned his forehead against hers and smiled, slow and very content. She trailed her fingers down his jaw, to linger at his chin.

"I do love you," she said quietly.

"Shalzi murate," he said. His smile deepened; it cocked to one side. "That means, I also for you. Don't worry. I will teach you later."

"Aren't you sure of yourself," she said. She pulled at his lapels, tugging them back into place. "As it turns out, I already know that one."

"Oh, my," said Naveen. "Then there is so little left to teach. Your accent, perhaps," he murmured, as he twisted his finger in her hair.

She turned to his touch. "Why don't you help me with that later?"

"I am free now," he offered. "But it may take some time. This is a very complicated lesson."

She spread her hand across his chest. Very lightly, she tapped her bare wrist. "Would you look at that?" she said. "Just so happens I've got some time right now."

"Then let us begin," said Naveen. He covered her hand, his fingers wandering across her wrist. "We don't want to waste any time."

Tiana leaned against him. "So stop talking," she said.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/16/2009.


	5. Turnaround

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

This is set during the film, after the "When We're Human" number, but before they meet Ray.

* * *

**Turnaround**

* * *

Louis drifted, content to sing some bright, meandering song on his trumpet. The waters parted before him and came back together behind him, and where he went the music followed.

Naveen picked idly at some spiderweb he'd strung up on two sticks. Tiana made a face at his reflection, which shimmered like a ghost on the surface of the water. She dug in hard with her stick, turning Louis just a little to the left. Her hand slipped, too slick, and she grunted.

"You know," Naveen called, "if you're getting tired, you could always _lay down_." He rolled the vowels in the back of his throat; they spilled out like a soft breeze, moaning.

She turned to him. "How do you do that? Make everything that comes out of your mouth sound like something dirty."

"Prrrac-tice," he said. He strummed that gossamer web. The notes rose between them, high and thin. "How is it everything you say is so boring?"

Tiana stabbed at a log, steering Louis back on course. The water rippled, lapping up his scales.

"Oh," she said, "just practice."

Naveen laughed, not meanly. Not purposefully, anyway. Still, it rankled.

"See?" he said. "You see what I mean? Right there." He blew his lips. "So boring."

She shifted her grip on the stick and drove it back down into the silt.

"I thought it was pretty clever," she said, arch.

Naveen pulled at the web, drawing out a long, wavering note. "Maybe when I said it."

Louis piped a long, sad chord: rising high, then swinging low.

"All right," said Naveen. "It was a little clever."

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/17/2009. Sorry it's taken so long to archive this here! I got caught up in the magic and wonder of finals week.

Thank you, as ever, to everyone who has read and reviewed this collection. Thank you so very much. :)


	6. A Need for Temperance

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

I am now, as before, humbled by the response this collection of silly stories has received. Thank you all so very much for your kind words and your suggestions, and for the time out of your day you've given me by reading it. Thank you.

This is set after the film by a few years, at least, possibly longer.

* * *

**A Need for Temperance**

* * *

Naveen checked once, then checked again, twisting his fingers through the belt loops and pulling out to no avail.

"F-fffaldi faldonza," he said, hissing through his teeth.

Tiana ran her fingers lightly along his back; she traced the breadth of his shoulders as she came around to the front of him. His shoulder rose beneath her hand, then fell, bowing.

"You having a little trouble?" she said.

He blew his cheeks out; his lips pursed. "It's these trousers," he said. He gestured sharply. "The waistband, it's too tight."

She eyed his waistline and Naveen straightened, cocking his hips and holding his shoulders loose as she looked him over.

"It looks all right to me."

"Allow me to assure you," he said, "it most definitely is not. See? I can't even fit my thumb--"

Tiana slipped her finger beneath his waistband and flexed it once, awkwardly.

"Ti-ana," Naveen said. His voice dropped; it rolled along his tongue.

"It's a little tight," she conceded. She patted his hip, comforting. "But if you ask her nicely, I'm sure Mama would be more than happy to take it out for you." She reached for his tie.

"Your mother is a treasure," he said, lifting his chin. Her fingers fluttered at his throat. "But treating the symptoms does not cure the disease, you know?"

"Mm. You do realize," she said to his jaw, "if you didn't eat so many beignets, you wouldn't be having this problem."

"You!" He shook his finger at her. "You did this to me."

Tiana smoothed his sweater over his shoulders, tugging the wrinkles out at the sleeves. "I told you to ease up on those beignets," she said. She poked his gut, still flat, and he huffed out a small laugh; his arm came up to shield his belly.

"I know, I know," he said, his teeth flashing. "I heard you the first time. And the thirtieth. Perhaps you shouldn't make such delicious beignets. Have you considered that?"

"I can't say as I have," she said, dryly.

"Yes, well," he said. "Deliberate on that for a while. Take as long as you need."

She slid her hand down the long, even slope of his chest. "Looks to me like you've got a choice to make. Your figure--"

She hooked a finger in his sweater and pulled, reeling him in. "--or my beignets," she said. Her breath called up goosepimples on his neck.

He spread his hands. "How can I choose, when I enjoy both?"

"You could always try moderating yourself," Tiana suggested.

"Well, that won't work," he said. "I might as well give up music. Which I will not be doing, by the way."

Tiana's eyes crinkled. She tucked a wild curl behind his ear, then rose up on her toes to hide an unhurried kiss in the corner of his mouth. Naveen turned his head, catching her as she sank down; she smiled into his kiss. His fingers brushed her jaw.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," she whispered. She left a kiss on the soft swell of his lower lip, a gentle touch which idled. "I don't really mind what you look like, Mister Frog Prince."

"A small comfort," he said. His hand settled on her hip. "But I'll accept it."

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/19/2009.


	7. Lights Above

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Thank you, again, to everyone who has read this collection and to everyone who has commented. I am, as ever, blown away by the response, and even a little overwhelmed. Thank you all so, so much for taking the time to read my stuff, and thanks, too, to those who've taken even more time out to comment. Thank you. _Thank you._

As a note, I'll be moving this collection to the category Movies: The Princess and the Frog with the next story, which will go up tomorrow or Saturday. Thanks to **elektralyte** and **alexapuppyeyesjohn** for the heads up! I'm much obliged. :)

This story is set after the film (hobviously), and it _is_ a Christmas-ish story (non-religious), so I guess keep that in mind?

* * *

**Lights Above**

* * *

In the doorway to the kitchen, looking out across the principle downstairs dining room, Tiana paused. It was late and Christmas morning had come, and there was no one else left in the place but Naveen, still fussing around in the kitchen.

The glimmering fairyland of the evening had gone, leaving an empty room filled with shadows, littered here and there with streamers, and confetti drifting like snow across the floor. But the strings of lights twisted up the pillars and draped in the rafters shone on, and in the corners the memory of music lingered, a faint impression of a horn blazing and the room swirling with dance and song.

All the work she'd put into making it happen: the long months planning, the late nights making sure everything was set up just right, and here she was, looking out over the trappings of her success, a Christmas Eve party fit for New Orleans. Her feet ached, her legs, too, but in her chest, something bright and sweet unfurled. She'd done it. No, she thought. They'd done it.

"Not bad, Miss Tiana," she said.

"Do you talk to yourself often?" said Naveen, wondering. He leaned over her shoulder, pressed close to her back. His hand settled between her shoulder blades. The lights above twinkled, thinning the shadows spilled across his face. "I only ask out of concern."

Tiana turned to him to say--

But he kissed her, his face tilted down to hers, and though it didn't last long, his mouth was warm, his touch light, and this was a sweetness, too. Tiana drew nearer; she fitted into his arms. She twisted her fingers in his jacket lapels.

"You should know," he said, and he kissed her again. "You're standing under the mistletoe." He pointed up and she followed, looking to the green sprig hanging from the frame. The white berries winked.

Naveen brushed his lips across her upturned cheek. "If you don't move," he said, as he made his way down her jaw, "I'm going to continue kissing you."

"Wouldn't that just be awful?" she murmured. She turned just so, to leave a kiss of her own on his brow, then another below that. His eyelashes swept her chin.

"Oh, yes," he said, "very terrible." His breath tickled her throat. "Like kissing a frog, yeah?"

She pulled on his jacket and he pressed close to her, so close, enveloping her. She touched her nose to his and when he dropped another small kiss on her lip, she smiled. All around them the lights shimmered, like fireflies, like some kind of magic.

"We did it," she said and her smile spread 'til she didn't think she'd ever stop. "The grandest Christmas Eve party in all New Orleans."

Naveen swayed with her, light on his feet. "It's a shame we have to wait so long to do it again. The dancing!"

He twirled and she followed him out onto the floor. They swung between the empty tables, kicking through the confetti, which rose in small, brightly colored clouds around their feet.

"The music!" he continued. "The lights! Oh, they're still on."

Tiana laughed and the thrum of it rose up through the silence and the shadows to hang in the rafters, where the lights gleamed like stars.

"Well, hey," she said, "there's always New Year's."

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/24/2009.

Sidenote: in my personal headcanon Naveen is Muslim, and Maldonia (personal headcanon: located in north Africa, no state religion) is predominantly Muslim with an additional substantial Catholic presence, particularly in the northern regions of the country. Obviously he would not celebrate Christmas (at least not as a religious celebration), but he would be familiar with and perhaps accustomed to it, what with being a member of the ruling family and all.


	8. A Brief Respite

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Oh, geez, I am basically the worst at updating on a schedule. I'm sorry! I actually have a whole set of vignettes finished and pretty much ready for uploading to FFN, I'm just ridiculously forgetful. Again, my sincere apologies to everyone. I am a doofus! That sums it up.

Thank you all very much for your kind words and your patience! I will attempt to update once every other day until such time as I run out of vignettes to post, at which point I will simply have to write more and then, theoretically, remember to crosspost them here. Yes. That is the plan.

This particular vignette is set during the reception for the second wedding.

* * *

**A Brief Respite**

* * *

The hallway was dark, the lights dimmed, and when Tiana checked the first door off it, she found the same in the room behind it.

"We ought to be able to hide in here for a bit," she said over her shoulder.

Naveen crowded her, his hands at her waist, the small of her back. In the thin light, his hair gleamed: dark brown, laced with copper, curling along his brow.

"Go, go!" His hands fluttered against her, pushing her on. "Someone is coming!"

She spilled into the room, Naveen fast behind her, and together they fell against the door, rocking it back into its casing. Tiana sucked her lower lip in, and in silence, they waited for the sound of another's tread on the carpet or a voice at the door, calling out for them.

Naveen looked to her. His lips twitched once, then again. He covered them with his hand. "Perhaps we should have been a little more circumspect," he whispered between his fingers. His shoulder brushed her arm when he shifted; his hip, warm and solid, pressed into her side.

"I think we're safe," she said at last.

"Are you certain?" He widened his eyes, so innocent. "How embarrassing it would be, to be caught like this. Two incredibly attractive newlyweds, alone in a dark room..."

She laughed and leaned against him; she fitted herself to his side. "Will you get over here already?"

"Patience is a virtue," he said, primly, "or so I have been told."

Tiana got a handful of his dress jacket, up near his collar. "Stop talking," she said, as she rose up to meet him.

"If I must," he said, and he bent low to accept her kiss. His fingers curled over her hip; his thumb traced the padded ridge of bone.

One by one, she wound her arms about his neck. The hair on his nape, shorn close to the skin, pricked her fingers.

He slipped his hand around her waist, to sweep up the fluid curve of her spine and draw her near, then nearer still. He was so warm, even through his formal uniform, even through her dress. His chest rose against hers and his thigh shifted, brushing her skirt. The muscles in his neck bunched and smoothed beneath her palms: he tipped his head and kissed a long line down her jaw; he breathed something into the hollow of her throat. Her heart beat wild in her chest.

She curled her fingers in his hair.

"Naveen," she said.

Out in the hallway, a door slammed; someone called out and another, too, their voices made indistinct.

"I've had enough of weddings," Naveen said, conversational. He nuzzled the soft juncture where her neck gave way to her shoulder. "Everyone wanting to shake your hand, to wish you luck, always wanting know where you are. No more."

She stroked his nape. "Are you sure about that? We might could fit another one in."

"Two," he said, "is plenty. I intend to never marry again."

"You better not," she said.

She felt his smile against her throat: his lips parting and his teeth pressing, briefly. Tiana slid her hands down low on his nape, her fingers flitting beneath the neck of his uniform.

In the hallway, another call went up: louder this time, and closer.

She drew her hands back. "We should probably get going," she said.

"Yes," Naveen said. He exhaled all in a rush. "Of course. Yes. We should do that." He straightened.

His hair was mussed, loose curls in disarray, and in that dark room, with so little light to see by, his eyes were black, the pupils blown out. His mouth looked very soft and when he licked the corner of it, the tip of his tongue flashing pink, it was wet, too.

Very lightly she touched his jaw.

"Maybe in a moment," she said.

"Astounding," said Naveen as he drew near again. "That is precisely what I was thinking."

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/21/2009.

(**Jeanniestorm**: Well, he can still have a big Christian wedding for Tiana, and then a Muslim ceremony as well, to represent both faiths in the marriage. To be honest, though, I can't imagine Naveen to be an especially devout _anything_. Why pray when he can party?)


	9. Tricky to Verbalize

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

As ever, thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read, and everyone who has reviewed. I remain very much grateful to you all for your kindness and your support, as well as your patience as time and again I forget to upload the stuff I've _already finished writing_, so c'mon, Memlu, get on the ball already.

Hey, it's smut time! Well, sort of. This particular story has a precautionary rating of **M** (or **R**, or whatever)for sexual content, so if that isn't your preferred cup of tea, you might want to skip it. It isn't terribly explicit, but you never know! I'm keeping the overall rating for the collection at **T** (or **PG13**, or whatever), though, as the only vignettes currently exceeding that rating are this one and another which I will be posting soon enough (with another warning regarding the content).

This is set after the film.

* * *

**Tricky to Verbalize**

* * *

In the silence of their room and the warmth of their bed, Naveen bent over her; he bore upon her.

"Naveen," Tiana said. She arched, pressing close, closer, pulling at his shoulders. Beneath her palms, his skin was slick with sweat, slick and so very hot, and high on his back, where her fingers wandered, the muscles rippled, bunching.

"Naveen," she said, "I--"

He pressed a graceless kiss beneath her jaw, into the soft hollow there: his mouth open, lips warm, his teeth scraping faintly; his tongue flicked out across her skin. He cupped her waist, slid his hand smooth and firm down the length of her thigh, and lifted, hitching her leg higher.

"Naveen," she said again, and he rolled his hips, pressing down into her, pressing deep. "Oh," she said, and he did it again. Her skin itched. She felt as if she'd been drawn out, a cord pulled tight and just about ready to give. His fingers on the back of her thigh, his mouth hot on her throat, his shoulders shifting beneath her hands, the steady undulation of his hips as he met her: all of it, like water running through her.

"Oh," she said, "oh, oh-h." She rose up against him, legs tight around his back, and dug her nails in, dragging him down and down. He nuzzled her jaw, the tender spot where it met her throat, and followed it up to the little joint behind her ear.

"Naveen," she said, "Naveen, please, I can't-- would you-- _please_." She closed her eyes and breathed: in once, out once. Her lips were dry; her tongue, too. She ached. "I need you to..." She frowned. "I _need_--" but she lost it.

Naveen nipped at her earlobe; he dragged it through his teeth. In her ear, he exhaled, his breath gusting, hot.

"Ti-an-a," he said, each syllable a drawn groan resounding in her ear, scraping across her skin. "Use your wor-rds."

It coiled in her belly and swirled through her, bubbling higher and higher, an irrepressible warmth sweeping through her: Tiana laughed; she shook, helpless. He hid his own laugh in her hair, his back shuddering beneath her hands.

His hips stuttered; he fell out of rhythm.

"Oh, hello," he said. "That has never happened before. Let me try again--" and she threw her head back; she laughed, flush against him.

She laughed still, as he drew her thighs up and fit himself within her, and as he kissed a long trail up her throat, whispering silly things against her skin; and when he rocked once, then again, and again, each lazy drive a line of heat roiling up her spine, she twined her fingers in his hair and smiled into his mouth.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/20/2009.

As multiple people have commented regarding this: I think part of the fun of something as ambigious as Maldonia (where it's located, its culture, etc.) is that everyone has a different interpretation. My Maldonia might not look a thing like your Maldonia! There really is no correct answer.


	10. The Pitch

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Ha! I remembered to update on time. Thank you so much to everyone who's read these stories, and might read them: to the new readers as well as the old. I'm so glad you've enjoyed them and I hope, very much so, that you will continue to do so.

This story is set after the film.

* * *

**The Pitch**

* * *

Where else was he to find his bride, but hard at work?

He lingered at the threshold, to watch her as she worked. On the stove two pots burbled, low-key, subdued. A mixing bowl waited to the side, and scattered across the counter an assortment of vegetables and ripe, shining fruits lay in neat piles.

At the sink, Tiana finished cleaning a head of lettuce and reached to switch off the water, rising off her heels. Naveen traced the easy line of her back, from her leg stretched out behind her, up the sinuous curve of her spine to the graceful sweep of her throat. She settled, and pulled her apron into place, dragging it tight over her breasts, smoothing it over her ample hips.

It would be prudent, he thought, to say something before this went any farther. He pushed off the doorframe.

"Ah, waitress," he called. His footsteps sounded out sharp and even on the polished floor. He threw some swing into his hips. "If you need a hand, let me know, and I will find someone to assist you."

She smiled, a wry sort of smile. Her cheek dimpled; her lashes swept low over her eyes. "Isn't that generous?"

He pressed a hand to his breast. "What can I say? I'm a very giving person."

"I just might take you up on that offer," she told him.

"Sadly, it's a limited time offer. It may not last much longer. I suggest acting quickly, before this fantastic deal is lost." He leaned back against the counter, near enough her shoulder brushed his arm. "So, what do you say, waitress?"

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, "but you might want to work on your sales pitch."

"Oh? How so?"

"For starters," she said, pressing in real close, "y'all'd be better off getting your most valued customer's title right."

"My most valued customer," he said, thoughtful. "And who might that be? It's just, there have been so many..."

Tiana ticked her fingers up his tie. "I'll give you one big hint," she said. She rested her hand on his shoulder, the band of her ring warm against his neck. "You married her."

"Yes, yes!" he cried. He smacked his palm to his forehead. "It is so obvious! How could I have forgotten? Now," he said, "you were saying something about titles? I believe? Something like that. Yes? Waitress?"

"I'm not sure who this waitress of yours is," she said. She touched her fingers to her collar. "But I'm the proprietor of this restaurant."

So close, he hardly needed to reach to rest his palm upon her shoulder and slide it down, down the smooth length of her arm.

"I much prefer princess," he said, low. He touched her jaw and leaned down, to kiss that crooked corner of her mouth, and then, perhaps, the sumptuous curve of her lower lip.

Tiana twisted away from his hand; she slipped neatly around him. Naveen caught himself on the counter as if he had intended to all along. He rested his chin in his hand.

"You are extraordinarily nimble," he told her. "Did you know that? And very beautiful as well."

"Are you done?"

He shrugged. "I could go on."

Tiana skated her fingers across the countertop, her wrist arching gracefully. "I think I will take you up on that offer," she said. She handed him the knife, handle first. "Hop to it."

He took the knife from her and studied it. His reflection frowned back at him, wavering along the blade. "And what am I doing with this?"

"Why," she said, "what you do best."

"I hate to disappoint, Madam Proprietor," he said, "but whatever it is you're thinking I do best? This is not it."

"And what exactly is it you do best?"

He smiled, very slow and very dirty.

Tiana laughed, a loud, sweet peal that vibrated in her throat.

"Just get to mincing," she said.

Naveen sighed, mournful. He scattered the bushy stalks of celery with a careless hand. "Ah, my love!" he said. "She is so cruel. And so humorless. But for her: I mince."

"I'll let her know," said Tiana.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/20/2009.


	11. Last Dance

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

I know I say this a lot, but I mean it every time, more than I can say: thank you, thank you, thank you. I am consistently blown away by the response to these stories, which is so much more than I could have ever asked for and so much more than I would have _dared_ to ask for. Thank you. Thank you. I'm so, so glad you're enjoying these stories and as ever, I hope that you will continue to enjoy them.

This story is set post-film.

* * *

**Last Dance**

* * *

Tiana wandered in from the study, the day's ledger checked and checked again, to find Naveen drying his hands by the sink. She looked over the dishes racked to dry, stacked in something resembling order.

"Now isn't that something?" she said.

"I'm not finished yet," he said, folding the towel into neat thirds. He slapped it over the sink's lip. "There are a few left, but--" He turned his hands over, apologetic. "My fingers are wrinkling."

She covered his palm. "I'm sure they'll iron out just fine," she said.

In the room over the Radiola 80 ran on, broadcasting a recording from New York City: a big brass band playing in a hall with echoes, and a woman with a voice like a horn belting fast and wild. Naveen turned to Tiana, his hips swinging.

"Dance with me," he said.

"Mmmm-no, I don't think so," Tiana said. She held her hands up between them, warding him off. "I've been on my feet all day. The last thing I want is to stay on them."

He caught her hands and held them to his chest; when he swayed so, too, did she.

"Oh, you must dance with me. Doesn't this music make you want to kick up your heels?"

"I'm not kicking anything this late," she told him.

He scuffed his feet across the floor, socks sliding easily; his hips rolled low and his shoulders followed. He drew near. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

"One dance," he said. "Half a dance. We could sway, perhaps, in place?"

"I like that last one," she said.

As her hands were already halfway there, she went ahead and slipped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. His shirt wrinkled. There was a wet spot where he'd splashed water on himself at the sink, but she didn't mind; under his shirt, he was warm and he was solid. He fitted his arm around her waist.

Out of New York City the woman with the voice like a horn sang low and sweet, each word lingering in her throat, the band behind her now muted. A trumpet played a soft and mournful counterpoint, the notes falling like drops of water.

Naveen rested his cheek upon her head.

She drifted with him through that song and another after that, revolving in slow fractions every fourth step or so. The floor was cold, her feet bare, and she swayed on her toes, to spare her heels. He rubbed her back, one long stroke of his palm up, a second down. His breath ghosted through her hair.

The broadcast ended; the radio went silent. Tiana held on to Naveen for another long minute, his hips hanging loose against hers, his hand on her back now still. The skin which showed where his shirt lay unbuttoned was smooth; it smelled of water and soap, and a faint spice. Her legs ached.

Tiana turned, brushing a kiss over that dip in his collarbone, exposed. She fell back on her heels.

"That's enough dancing for one evening," she said.

Naveen sighed into her hair and held her close a moment longer, his fingers spreading wide over her lower back. He withdrew.

"How late is it?"

"Very," said Tiana. She curled her toes against the chill of the kitchen floor. "I'm going to turn in. Long day, and another one shaping up for tomorrow."

"Yes, work," said Naveen. He looked to the sink, where a few dishes waited, half-washed. "Sometimes I miss just being royal. Having everything done for me."

"But think of all the fun you'd miss," she said. She tipped his chin up, let her fingers fall down his throat. "Playing music every night. Making your own name."

"Washing dishes."

"And hey," she said, "you can just about make a passable jambalaya. If you don't mind picking out the burnt parts."

"Yes, I'm a very accomplished man," said Naveen. "I have an excellent teacher. She works twice as hard as anyone else. Three times." He reached up to touch her cheek. "You're tired," he said, "and I'm keeping you up."

She smiled into his palm. "Not anymore, you're not. Because I," she said, "am going to bed."

"And I," said Naveen, "am going to finish these dishes." He made a face.

"You could do that," Tiana said, thoughtful. "Or you could just come up with me."

"Are you suggesting I shirk my responsibilities?" he called after her. "That I leave this job half-done, maybe to forget?"

Tiana turned around at the threshold to the next room, her fingers resting lightly on the frame. "You coming or not? I'm not standing here all night waiting for you to make up your mind."

"Luckily," said Naveen, "my mind is now made up."

He followed her up the stairs.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/23/2009.

**Perhapsormaybe**: for what it's worth, I've definitely used "y'all" in the singular, as have my family and a number of people I've spoken with over the years. Not, like, all the time or anything, and you're totally right, it isn't grammatically correct, but we've used it and we'll probably keep using it.

(Less with the personal anecdata: "Y'all" is used in the singular at least once in the film, when Dr Facilier tells Tiana, "Y'all should've taken my deal." So! I don't know, I felt it was worth mentioning.)


	12. A Twist On the Old Standard

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

I am, like, just about to run out the door to go to work, but please, please, please know that it means so much to me that you've all enjoyed these stories as much as you have. I really never expected any response like this, so it's kind of astounding and a little shocking that so many people have not only read these silly things, but actually liked them. Thank you all, so much.

Like **Tricky to Verbalize**, this story is set after the movie and it is rated **M** for sexual content. Just so you know! If that isn't the sort of thing you like, please look away now, before it's too late.

* * *

**A Twist On the Old Standard**

* * *

Naveen managed ten long, even strokes, pushing in deep, then:

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Tiana said. She pulled on his shoulders and moved her hips against him, dragging a shallow roll out of him. "Don't stop."

"I'm not _stopping_," he said, "I'm-- ah, please, wait, let me--"

He slid his hand down her back and rolled so she was on top and he on bottom; her hair fell dark between them. Tiana settled on him and her breath caught in her throat; it shuddered in her chest. His hips jerked once, then stilled.

"There," he said, breathless. His fingers fluttered at the small of her back. "Now," he said. "Let's try it like this. All right?" He nuzzled her breast, dropping little kisses. When he spoke, his breath ran hot over her skin. "You will enjoy this, I think."

Tiana smoothed her hands over his shoulders, sleek with sweat and taut. Low in her gut, heat spiked; she ached, deep. She swallowed.

"Oh," she said, "I believe you. Just give me a minute."

"You are welcome to as many as you need," he said. He spread his fingers wide over her waist, holding her close. His voice fell, rolling in his throat. "Whenever you are comfortable," he said, "please, do not hesitate to move."

Tiana laughed, not loudly, but softly; it shook through her, and where their bodies met, she itched, filled up and wanting more. His hips shivered beneath her. She tightened her hold on his shoulders, to hold herself still, to hold him that way, too.

"Lazy," she said.

"Well, yes," Naveen said. "I don't deny it." He ran his hands up her sides, following the curve of hip to her trembling belly, to her breasts. He stroked her nipple with his thumb. "But the view is also very nice."

Tiana curled over him; she pressed her smile to his jaw. "You're not so bad yourself," she murmured.

"So I have been told," he said. He turned his head and kissed her once on her temple, his mouth warm upon her brow.

She breathed in and breathed out, then rolled her hips against him. His fingers dug into her ribs and she did it again, rocking down, then again, that warmth pooled in her belly slowly bubbling up.

"Oh, wow," Naveen said. His head fell back against the pillow; his dark hair spilled out like a halo. He bit his lip.

Tiana stroked his chest, running her palms over that smooth, broad expanse: skin slicked, his chest arching beneath her hands. His heart thrummed against her fingers.

"Tiana," he said. His hips snapped up, meeting hers, and each stroke rang through her, a clear and burning note driving up into her belly. "Tiana. Tiana."

She pushed down, down, taking in all she could; she tightened around him. He clung to her, his hands drifting restlessly across her back.

"Tiana," he groaned.

She bent over him, trickling open kisses along his cheek, the hard line of his jaw, his long nose. Naveen made a noise and rose gracelessly to catch her mouth with his own. Tiana threaded her fingers through his hair, and he tipped his head back, drawing her down with him.

He moaned something into her mouth, but she didn't understand it: _locimo moccia rizunanda_, then her name again. Her hips shook, helpless, down and down, again and again, and he met her, pressing into her as she pressed onto him, faster now and harder.

"Naveen," she said, and she dug her nails into his chest, and buried her face in his throat as she shook. Another moment and another after that, and Naveen rose against her, groaning and laughing at once.

She fell into the sheets beside him and turned to his chest and the open curve of his arm. He picked the wild curls from her face one by one.

"So," he said, "was I right? You did enjoy it, yes? For future reference, of course."

Tiana smiled into the touch of his hand. She tucked her head beneath his chin and his arm settled upon her waist.

"You might could say that," she said.

"Very well," said Naveen, "I will."

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/22/2009.


	13. Early to Rise

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Always the worst at updating when promised: that's me. I've no excuses now (I never had any excuses) and I don't know if it's really enough simply to apologize. Nevertheless: I'm sorry. I promised to update on a regular schedule and as you can clearly see, I failed to do so. Thank you so very much for continuing to put up with me.

This is set post-film.

* * *

**Early to Rise**

* * *

Tiana fixed herself a cup down in the kitchen, then, mug firmly in hand, she set back up the stairs.

In her absence, Naveen had seen fit to take over the rest of the bed, one long, golden-brown arm thrown out over the sheets, his face buried in the pillows. The bedspread had tangled around his waist, leaving all his broad and very much bare back out there for anyone to see. If she lingered, looking that back over from top to bottom, well, she'd married him.

Tiana switched the mug from one hand to the other, balancing carefully. She reached down to shake his shoulder. "Rise and shine, your royal slugabedness. It's about time you rolled out of bed."

Naveen groaned into the mess of pillows. His shoulder rose, then fell, rolling beneath her fingers. "Molasam," he said, in a voice half-rusted with sleep. "Too early. Come back later."

"I'm afraid that's not happening," said Tiana. She nudged him again, prodding at his ribs. He frowned and slapped at her; his hand closed around her wrist. Idly, he swept his thumb over her pulse once, twice, again. Naveen pressed his face down into the pillow; he wriggled closer.

"C'mon," she said, "get up. We got a lot do."

"Busy, busy," he murmured. He looked up at her, lashes drawn dark over his eyes, his mouth sleep-softened, the corners pouting. He tugged on her wrist. "Come back to bed."

"I'm giving you 'til the count of three," Tiana said, "and then I'm pulling that spread right off you. One. Two--"

Naveen tugged again and she came down onto the mattress, holding the mug up high above her head. He threw his arm around her waist. "Whoopsy daisy," he breathed.

Tiana held the mug as steady as she could, with Naveen gathering her to his chest, his fingers twining in her shirt. The bed depressed beneath her. "Whoa, careful, honey," she said. "Coffee's hot."

Progress: he lifted his head off the pillow. "Coffee?" he said. He took in a long drag of that thick, roasted smell, his lips parting, mouth falling open. He wound himself around her; he rose onto his elbow.

She swung the mug out of his reach and Naveen made a noise in his throat. "That's right," she said, teasing it out. She smiled at him, nice and slow. "And I've got a fresh pot brewing downstairs, just for you."

He blinked slowly at her, then frowned; his eyebrows drew down to a point. His cheek was wrinkled where he'd slept on it. "I see," he said. He fell back against the pillows. "Wake me when it's fully brewed, please. Thanks."

"Oh, no, no, sir." She slipped out of his grasp, sliding down to the very edge of the bed, then rising off it. He felt for her, his fingers passing over the sheets. "If you want that coffee, you're coming with me."

He rolled his lips. "Coffee first," he said. "Then whatever else it is you want. Okay?"

"Three," said Tiana, and she yanked the spread free.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/24/2009.


	14. Take a Late Morning

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

As ever, my innumerable thanks to everyone who has read these stories and to everyone who has reviewed. Thank you all so much for the support and the kindness you've shown me, even as I persist in forgetting to update.

This story, like those which came before it, is set after the film.

* * *

**Take a Late Morning**

* * *

Tiana woke bit by bit, rising out of some dream, now receding, to a string of unhurried kisses dropped along her shoulders. Beneath her nightgown, high on her back, his palm traced the contour of her spine. She stretched, arching into his touch.

"Hello," murmured Naveen.

She wriggled, burrowing into the fold between his arm and his chest, bare and very warm, even through her gown. "What time is it?"

"Morning," he said. He pressed his face into her hair, his lips to her temple. "Much too early to get up."

She tipped her face up to the fleeting warmth of his kisses, which he sprinkled across her cheek, her nose, the corner of her mouth as she yawned. His fingers trailed down her back, dipping low, lower, his thumb firm on her hip.

"You're going to have to be a little more exact," she said.

"Much, _much_ too early," he said. He mouthed her jaw, tracing the line with little flicks of his tongue. "So early it's practically indecent."

Tiana struggled up onto her elbow and he settled, running his fingers lazily down her back. She fumbled for the clock, tick-ticking away on the nightstand, and missed, then lunged for it again. She read it once, then read it again; the time didn't change.

Behind her, Naveen picked at her collar, drawing it down and away so he could layer kisses low on her nape.

Tiana twisted around. "What did you do to my alarm?"

He tugged her collar further down. "You looked so peaceful. I didn't wish to disturb you."

"Do you have any idea how late it is?"

"No," he said.

"It's--" She slithered out of his grasp. Naveen complained in his throat and followed, reaching for her. "It is half past seven. We're supposed -- will you stop that -- to be at the restaurant by nine."

"Then we will be late," he said, unconcerned. He bent to her throat, advancing down that supple slope to her clavicle.

"I've got too many things to do," she said, then, pointedly: "We both do." She set her hands on his shoulders, which relaxed beneath her touch, spreading wide.

"Lots of things," she said.

"Surely they can wait." He tucked a slow kiss into the hollow of her collar. "One hour." Another. "Two. After all," he said, palming her thigh, "there is so much to do here." He nuzzled the swell of her breast.

Tiana pushed down hard on his shoulders and slipped out of his hands, off the bed, and onto her feet beside it. Naveen latched on to the headboard to keep from spilling out of bed and across the floor before her.

"If we hurry," she said, "we should still be able to catch the seven-fifty tram." She rifled through the wardrobe. "That ought to get us to the docks by eight-twenty, assuming traffic's not too bad."

"It's _Saturday_," said Naveen.

"Restaurant's still open," she sang. She yanked her nightgown up over her head.

"You own it, do you not? So just close it for the day."

Tiana notched one eyebrow at him. Naveen smiled at her, blithe and hideously charming, his shoulders cocked in invitation. The sheets were very low on his waist.

She pitched a pair of socks at him. He recoiled.

"Stop fooling around and get dressed. We don't have much time."

"Gladly," said Naveen, in a tone which suggested otherwise. "But I will need more than socks."

"You've got legs," said Tiana. "Hurry up and use them."

"But I don't want to," he said. He smoothed his hand across the sheets and threw her a look beneath his eyelashes. "Perhaps if you came back to bed."

Tiana hesitated a moment. Wouldn't it be easy, just to slip in under the sheets and wind her arms about him and press him down into that big, soft mattress?

She threw a pair of trousers at him, catching him square in the chest. "You've got ten minutes," she said. "If you're not downstairs, I'm leaving without you."

"All right," said Naveen. "All right! I'm getting dressed."

She blew him a kiss as she slipped out the bedroom.

"I will not accept this kiss," he shouted after her. "It's too late! The romance is gone, never to return."

Tiana took the steps by two, humming all the way.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/29/2009.

To the anonymouse who asked, my livejournal is _mekosuchinae_(at)_livejournal_(dot)_com_. On the off-chance FFN messes up that address, it's also linked as my homepage at my FFN profile.

To **Ophelia Dawn Clark**: the tragic thing is, most of these stories have been finished for weeks now! I'm just too lazy to do the minimum effort needed to upload them to and format them for FFN. I'm, uh, pretty lazy, as it turns out. Ridiculously lazy. Phenomenally lazy. That said: thank you so much for the incredibly kind things you've said, for the encouragement and the reassurances you've offered. It means a lot to me, and I owe you much for it. :)

In fact, thank you to everyone who's reviewed. You've all been so kind to me and you always have such interesting things to say, and you've made me laugh and smile and think a little about the things I've written in ways I didn't expect. You're awesome.

Thanks also to everyone who's read and hasn't reviewed! As someone who frequently finds it difficult to compose even the simplest review for a story and generally prefers to adore (or hate) in the silence and privacy afforded a lurker, on account of I'm neurotic and shy and not so good with words, I ain't throwin' no stones. Thank you for reading. Thank you, thank you, thank you. YOU are awesome, too.

Thank you all, so much.

(Wow, sorry, this kind of turned into A Thing. And it sounds like a sort of Final thing, too, but I promise, I've got at least seven more vignettes to post. I'm not going anywhere soon!)


	15. Sweets

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

As ever, thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing and all that good stuff. Thank you. :) And look, an update! And it's not even a week since the last one! One step at a time.

This story is, uh, a thing. AU. Fusion with Harry Potter. I don't even know.

* * *

**Sweets**

* * *

Charlotte latched on to her arm. "Tia, honey," she said, bubbling over, "I need you to hold my sweets for just one minute. There is a drop-dead gorgeous Ravenclaw looking the toffees over and I just _have_ to say hello."

"Oh, that does sound urgent," said Tiana. "But just a minute, all right?"

"Oh, Tia! Tia, you are just about the best witch I've ever known," Charlotte cried, managing somehow to drop her confectionaries in Tiana's arms and engulf her in a bruising hug all at once. "And don't you worry, honey," she said, "it won't take me more than one."

In the late afternoon crush of students at Honeydukes Tiana soon lost sight of Charlotte, who flitted through the crowd in hot pursuit, her yellow-and-black scarf streaming behind her like a banner. Tiana balanced the stack of sweets against her shoulder, set her chin on top of the box of chocolate frogs, and sighed once.

"What a horrible sound," someone said, very near to her. "Perhaps if you didn't try to carry so much all at once?"

Naveen leaned down and around her shoulder. He grinned up at her, his teeth brilliant in their (charmed) whiteness, his hair artfully mussed. "Would you like a hand?"

"That's very sweet," she said, "but I got it."

The crowd shifted around them and Naveen leaned against her, his chest broad and very warm against her arm. "How serendipitous, that we should meet like this," he said, straightening. "Where is your friend, Miss LaBouff?"

"She's off charming Ravenclaws. If you try," Tiana said, neatly sidestepping a hooting third-year, "you can still catch her by the toffees."

"Miss LaBouff is very charming, this is true," he said, "but I would much rather talk with you." He swayed with the throng: his thigh pressed to hers; his arm brushed her back.

The skin low on her back prickled; it tingled. "It's your loss," she said. Tiana studied the box of chocolate frogs. She didn't know why Charlotte loved them so.

"I shall do my best to overcome," he said gravely, then in a much lower tone, one that broke through the constant white noise of the crowd and rolled over her skin, he said, "This is very short notice, I know, but I was wondering. Will you be attending the winter formal?"

Tiana looked at him sharply, but he forged on, heedless.

"If the answer to this question is yes, then I must also ask, will you be attending the winter formal with someone..." He paused. "Special?"

In her chest her heart thumped and thumped again, and Tiana wished it would just stop already. They'd been through this before.

"Shouldn't you be asking some lucky witch in Slytherin those questions?" she said.

"Why must I deprive all the women of Hogwarts of my love?" he said, wondering. "You a Gryffindor and I a Slytherin, but what does it matter? These House rivalries, they are so needless, no? So much better to love instead."

Tiana rolled her eyes, for her benefit if not his. She shifted the sweets in her arms and advanced in the line, Naveen sauntering unhurried after her.

"You should try a little less loving and a little more studying," she said. She turned on him suddenly, nearly knocking the chocolate frogs off the top of her stack. He caught them in his long fingers. "That reminds me," she said, then, as he replaced the frogs, "Thank you. How'd you do on the Potions exam?"

"Very well. It was a resounding and somewhat unexpected success." He smiled at her. "I have my exceptional tutor to thank."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling back at him.

Naveen took advantage of a break in the crowd to swing around before her. "You must allow me to thank you properly. A dance, perhaps? I'm an accomplished waltzer and you won't find anyone who can do a Merlin's Jig quite so well as I, I guarantee."

He smiled at her still, but there was an odd awkwardness to it: a corner slightly lower than the other, perhaps a little less tooth than she was used to seeing. Thump thump thump, went her heart, like it hadn't learned a thing.

"I might be willing to save you a dance," she said.

Naveen twisted around her, his feet slapping the floor, each step the note to a song.

"Just one dance!" she said, turning to follow him. "That's all!"

"One dance is all I ask," he said. "But should you ask for another, I will not say no." He bowed theatrically, displacing two third-years and a display.

Tiana covered her mouth to keep a laugh from falling out; she pressed her fingers hard to her lips.

"I will see you tomorrow," he said, recovering as best he could, "in Potions, yeah?"

"You'll see me there," she said.

His smile flashed, so bright; it lit up his face. He bowed again, less extravagantly, first to her, then to Charlotte, who swept up to them with her cheeks ruddy and her hands flapping.

"Oh, Tia!" she said. "Tia, Tia, Tia! Malcolm, that's his name, you know, Malcolm Cavanaugh, and I -- oh, he-llo, Naveen." She wriggled her fingers at him and threw a sly look at Tiana from underneath her lashes. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Tiana pulled herself upright, then together, beneath Charlotte's knowing gaze. "As a matter of fact," she said, "Naveen was just heading off."

"Yes, regretfully, I have a previous engagement at The Three Broomsticks," he said to Charlotte. "I only wished to say hello to Miss Tiana as I passed through."

"Aren't you a sweetheart?" Charlotte crooned. "Tia, darling, he isn't just the sweetest? Well," she said, "I think so anyway."

"You are too kind, Miss LaBouff," said Naveen. He smiled again at Tiana, a slow, small smile, private and very warm, even in the crowded, heated store. "But though it pains me, I take my leave."

"Bye-bye!" Charlotte cooed. She elbowed Tiana, nearly dislodging half the confectionaries.

She caught them on her shoulder and gently, gently nudged them back into place. "Try not to have too much fun," she said to Naveen.

"Impossible!" he said. His smile deepened. "You can never have too much fun. Abinaza!" Naveen tossed off a lazy salute to them both before pulling his green-and-black scarf up over his long mouth. He vanished into the crisp December air, his hands deep in his pockets and his elbows swinging loose, his steps jaunty even as he crossed through the snow.

"Must've been some hello," Charlotte murmured.

"Take your frogs, Lottie," said Tiana.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/21/2009.

Hahaha, oh, man. This story. So, a month ago I was chatting with some friends on-line and the subject of Sorting fictional characters into the various Hogwarts Houses comes up, as it so often does; as we were all jazzed up about the wide release of _The Princess and the Frog_, that was the direction our conversation took. I feel quite strongly that no House would fit Naveen quite so well as Slytherin: he's cunning, he's manipulative, and he's not above using his charms (or Charms, if you will) to get what he wants.

But Sorting isn't really an objective science and really, an argument could be made for any other House. I mean, hey, I picked Gryffindor for Tiana because I thought it fit her best, but a friend of mine made a very compelling defense for Tiana as a Hufflepuff. Sorting is pretty arbitrary! (And sketchy, too: dividing children into highly competitive Houses on the basis of a select two or three character traits they evidenced at the age of eleven? Problematic!)

That said, Charlotte is so totally in Hufflepuff.

I imagine I will soon be writing a much longer Harry Potter fusion AU starring Tiana and Naveen, because oh boy do I have some ideas. Too many ideas. A surfeit of ideas.


	16. Somniloquy

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Many thanks to everyone for reading! I know at this point you're like, "Yeah, yeah, I've heard this all before, Mem," but it's as true now as it was when I first started posting these. Thank you. I'm still so blown away by the response to this collection and to the kindness you've all shown me. Thanks. :)

This is set after the film and like far too many of the pieces I have written thus far, it involves waking up in the morning. I am beginning to suspect I enjoy this kind of story a little too much!

* * *

**Somniloquy**

* * *

A late morning scheduled as such meant Tiana had the luxury to wake as leisurely as she liked, and to fritter away long minutes trying to decide if she was ready to be awake yet or not.

Naveen petted her back absently, his hand drifting aimless across her shoulders. Slung casually between her thighs, his leg drew up. She leaned into the warm circle of his arms.

"Are you awake?" he whispered.

"Not yet," said Tiana, but she turned her face up to kiss his chin.

Naveen wriggled and caught her kiss with his own. His breath was very dry and a little stale, a natural consequence of the hour, but his lips were gentle; his touch, too. Tiana drew the kiss out a moment more. His mouth opened beneath hers: he laughed, silently.

She smiled, answering, and said, "What's so funny?" into the softened corner of his mouth.

Naveen kissed her again, lightly. "You," he said.

Tiana leaned back, not all the way out of his arms, but far enough she could look him in the eye. "Excuse me?"

"You were talking in your sleep," he said, with relish. "My name came up, quite a lot. 'Naveen, Naveen, ohhh,'" he moaned, "'I love you.'" He batted his lashes.

"I do not talk in my sleep," she said.

"You talk all the time in your sleep," he countered. "'Please, Naveen.' 'I love you, Naveen.' 'Who ate all the beignets...'" He paused for effect. "'_Naveen_.' And of course my favorite, 'More, Naveen, oh, mor-re,'" he groaned, dragging out the r.

Tiana leaned even further out of his arms. "Do you ever feel ashamed of yourself?" she said.

"What for?" said Naveen. He did not appear terribly ashamed.

"These awful lies you're telling me," she said.

"What?" he said. "Lies?" he said. "I would never-- in my life-- these hurtful accusations--"

"Mm-hmm," she said. "What are you doing watching me sleep anyway?"

"You're so cute when you snore," he said. "Your nose, it wrinkles, like this." He demonstrated, crossing his eyes. "And sometimes your mouth, it falls open, like this--"

She threw her hands up, covering his face.

"And then," he said around her fingers, "you drool. Just a little. So adorable." He tipped his head and kissed her fingertips, his lashes fluttering.

"Well, you cling," she said, because he did; it was like waking up with a crab some mornings. "And you steal the sheets, too."

"But it's so cold," he whined from the depths of his nest, the bedspread lumped on top of him, sheets twisted up around him, "and you're so warm." He squirmed close again, his leg sliding higher between her thighs; he buried his face in her throat with a sigh.

"There is no way you are that cold," she said, as Naveen made his way down her throat, humming against her skin. "It's not even September yet."

"Yes, but I am a Maldonian," said Naveen. "I'm accustomed to heat."

"New Orleans not hot enough for you?" she said.

"It could be hotter," he said. "We could ... make it hotter." He blew air across her breast, his breath cooling, then tickling.

Tiana laughed and reached up to push him away, her hand on his face again, fingers framing his elegant nose.

"No, I think it's hot enough as is," she said. "You'll just have to make do."

"Oh, but you had some very interesting suggestions earlier," he said, his lips soft on her palm. "When you were sleeping."

"Did I, now?" she said.

"Oh, yes," he said. He leaned against her, his eyes dark, lidded.

"That's awful strange," said Tiana, "because as I recall, I don't talk in my sleep."

"Allow me to remind you," he said.

"You can try," she said, smiling at him.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/31/2009.


	17. Girls' Day Out

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Hahaha, it's, uh, it's been a while, huh? Oh, gosh. I'm sorry! No excuse whatsoever. Thank you so much, all of you, for being so patient with me. :) And thank you, again, for all your kind words! Thank you.

This story is set after the film.

* * *

**Girls' Day Out**

* * *

Charlotte descended upon the kitchen like a tornado touching ground. She brushed past Celeste, nearly overturned Pierre and the pot of crawfish he bore in his arms, and with the expected ladylike grace, she shoved Tremaine out of the way.

"Oh, Tia!" she cried. She fell upon her.

"Lottie?" said Tiana. Her hands fluttered at Charlotte's back, rising, startled, to embrace her. "Lottie, just a minute, I have to--" She slammed the oven door shut and grappled with the dials as Charlotte clung to her.

"I see you have found yourself a new shift," murmured Naveen in passing. Tiana shooed him off.

"Lottie, what are you doing here?"

Charlotte adjusted her hat, drawing the wide, silk-laden brim back from her eyes. "Why, for our morning tête-à-tête, honey. Don't you remember?"

"That was today?" said Tiana. She covered her mouth. "Oh, Lottie, I'm so sorry. We've been so busy here, it must've just slipped my mind."

"Well, that's all right," said Charlotte. She flittered her fingers, dismissive. "But we're going to have to hurry if we want to do some shopping before we catch that matinee."

Tiana held her hands up between them, placating, apologetic. "Lottie, that sounds wonderful, but I really can't."

At her back, Naveen shifted a boiling pot from one burner to another; he voiced a smothered oath. Charlotte's face closed in upon itself: her mouth pursed, her brow drew down, her pug nose scrunched. Tiana reached for her, then half-turned, glancing back to Naveen, then looking to Charlotte. Naveen bent over the stove, his arm folded against his chest. He waved his hand at them.

"Do not worry," he said, "I have mastered the pot. The scalded flesh will heal."

"Run some cold water over your arm," Tiana told him. "The burn ointment's in the--"

"Yes, yes, I know which cabinet holds the burn ointment," he grumped. "I remember."

"Don't use the whole tube this time," Tiana shouted after him.

Charlotte grabbed at Tiana's hands, bringing them together, holding them to her chest. "Tia, you promised," she said. "You gave me your word. You work so hard I hardly ever get to see you. And you must be worn down to the bone. You don't ever get to have any fun. Oh, Tia, please, I haven't seen in you so long!"

"It's been three days," said Tiana, laughing, but Charlotte wasn't at all amused. Her bow mouth wobbled.

"That _is_ a long time," said Naveen, as he fiddled with the ointment. He smiled blindingly. "To go a day without Tiana is unthinkable."

"Settle down, husband," she said.

He crossed his eyes at her, stuck out his tongue. The tube squelched in his hand.

"You promised me you'd take today off," said Charlotte.

"Lottie, look, I'd love to go out shopping with you, more than anything--"

Charlotte preened.

"--but I've got to get the restaurant ready for the afternoon."

Charlotte frowned, her fingers still teasing at her bobbed curls. "Can't it wait?"

"As a matter of fact," said Tiana, "no, it can't. There's too much to do. I have to prep the menu, make sure the floor's set up, double-check the evening reservations--"

Charlotte flapped her hand, airy. "Naveen can handle all that, can't you, Naveen?"

He saluted them with the tube, the skin of his arm slick with the ointment. "I will not let you down, my princess!" he said. "I shall shoulder this responsibility with the proper gravity."

"No offense," said Tiana, "but I really don't think--"

"No offense has been taken," he said generously. "Go! Have fun. Enjoy yourselves. I will hold down the Palace." He leaned forward, his smile small, lopsided, rakish. "After all, have I not learned from the best?"

"Very smooth," she told him.

Charlotte bounced on her toes, her heels clicking upon the floor. She took up Tiana's hand again, held it tightly between her own two hands. "Please, please, please, Tia, honey. Just this once."

Tiana rested her hand on Charlotte's arm, a calming touch. Charlotte smiled, her blue eyes glimmering, the corners wet. The kitchen staff bustled about them, everyone going about their tasks both great and small with the unthinking, practiced grace of the well-trained expert.

"Please," said Charlotte.

"Well," said Tiana, "I suppose they could do without me for one day..."

"Hooray!" shouted Charlotte and she flung her arms about Tiana, dancing her around. "We're going to have ourselves so much fun, Tia, just like we used to."

"Before I took all the fun out of her," said Naveen.

"Just give me a minute to get my things together," Tiana said to Charlotte. "And I want to make sure everyone knows what they're supposed to do."

"We all know what we're doing, ma'am," offered Celeste. "You shouldn't worry about us." Pierre piped up in agreement, nodding; his hat slid down over his eyes.

"So, you see?" said Naveen. "We will survive without you, for a little while."

"I'm not so sure about that," said Tiana. She looked to his arm, where the ointment shone on his skin.

"I shall endeavour not to set myself or anything else on fire," said Naveen, his hand over his heart.

"I found the darlingest little boutique," Charlotte was saying, "the absolutely sweetest little place, Tia, and oh, isn't it so exciting? Just us two girls!"

"A little break might be nice," said Tiana, and after all, how long had it been since she'd gone out with Charlotte, just the two of them? No husbands, no work, no deadlines that needed meeting: just her and Charlotte out on the town.

She locked her arm with Charlotte's, an easy, familiar gesture. The smile Charlotte gave her was the same smile she always gave Tiana: affectionate and a little silly and not quite so perfect as the smile she gave everyone else. Tiana smiled back at her.

"We'd better hurry," she said. "We don't want to miss that matinee."

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 01/22/2010, for livejournal user **abarero**, who purchased fic from me at **help_haiti**, a fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.


	18. Steady

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Thank you so much to everyone for your kind words! And, of course, thank you so much simply for reading. :) (And haha, oh, thank you, **Willofthewisp**! Tiana's friendship with Charlotte is one of my favorite things from the movie, and yet I never seem to do anything with it. Erk.)

This story is set after the film.

* * *

**Steady**

* * *

What junk the Misters Fenner had left to rot on the second floor of the mill: boxes and boxes of it sequestered in the far corner, draped in cobwebs, layered with dust. The wan light streaming through the jagged holes in the roof wasn't much help, illuminating little more than the dust motes drifting aimlessly about them.

Naveen muttered something in Maldoniz that sounded suspiciously like an oath. She let it slide.

"Well," said Tiana. She squared her shoulders. "We'd best start clearing this out."

Grimly, Naveen rolled his sleeves higher yet upon his arms. Swamp water didn't much vex him, but dust did: he complained about the cobwebs in his hair and the dirt on his shoes, and the first time she'd handed him a broom he'd stared at it like he thought maybe the handle would tell him what to do. But for all his grousing he got it done eventually, tackling every challenge like he had something to prove. She supposed he did.

"I'm going to go get the brooms," she said.

She touched his shoulder, slid her hand down his arm. He turned reflexively into her touch. He smiled, the dust in the air swirling like a halo about his head.

"And I," he said, his smile souring, "will get started with this." He jabbed his thumb back at the boxes.

"Don't try to carry too much," she said. She rose briefly, to peck his cheek, then back down the creaking stairs she went.

The brooms she retrieved from the corner. She shook the cobwebs off the one -- no sense in dragging more of the stuff upstairs -- and when she turned around again, she spotted Naveen on the stairs, a box cradled awkwardly in his arms. He stepped carefully down, feeling for the next step, and she smiled; she smiled as his foot slipped and he staggered, falling against the railing. The aged wood groaned, relenting.

She ditched the brooms and lunged up the stairs, three steps, four steps, five.

"Tiana," he said, drawing out each syllable: a series of notes, rising in panic. The box teetered in his arms; it hauled violently to the left.

Seven steps and she was before him. She caught the falling corner of the box hard against her shoulder. The rest of the box followed shortly: she planted her feet and took the weight into her arms, let it settle against her chest.

"Tiana," he said, panic still thick in his voice. "Tiana, are you all right?"

She shifted her grip, adjusted her feet. "Just fine," she said, a little breathless. "Don't worry about me. I'm all right. You okay?"

"Yes, I am fine as well, but Tiana--" The step complained: he leaned forward.

"No, no, I've got it," she said. "Just let me get turned around."

Seven steps back down with the box heavy in her arms. Her shoulder ached where the corner had struck it and her heart pounded still, not so much against the stress of the box as the fleeting image she'd had of the railing splintering beneath him, of the wood caving and cracking and Naveen falling through that dusty air. One last step.

She dropped the box; a thin cloud of dust rose around it. She looked to Naveen standing yet on the stairs: not at all sure what she was going to say to him, not at all sure what she was going to do but maybe grab onto him and pull him down to solid ground and hold him against her.

He stepped down beside her. "Do you know," he said, wondering, "I could barely lift that? And yet you carried it like it was nothing. Like it was full of air instead of whatever it's full of. Rocks." He smiled at her. "You have a very strong arm, princess."

She wasn't in the mood to appreciate that echo or the sentiment that laced it. She said, "It's not that hard. You just have to know how to balance it." She gripped the front of his shirt.

"Ah," said Naveen, "another lesson."

"I thought you were going to _fall_," she said. Her fingers tightened.

"You would have caught me," he said. He covered her hands and leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. "But I will be more careful next time."

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 01/22/2010, for livejournal user **magpieinthesky**, who purchased fic from me at **help_haiti**, a fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.


	19. Happy For You

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Thank you so much to everyone for every kind word you've said, for every minute you've spent reading my fic, for your continuing patience with me, for everything. Thank you. I'm very sorry I'm late yet again! No excuse.

This story is set after the film.

* * *

**Happy For You**

* * *

They met for lunch at The Full Moon Cafe, just Tiana and Charlotte. The summer was young and the hour early, but that Louisiana heat just about beat all. Tiana's new summer dress was light, a thin, breezy thing that shimmered beneath the sun and stuck to her skin when she started to sweat, which didn't take very long, all told.

Inside the cafe it was cool and dark, the air conditioner chugging away in its place of honor. Tiana accepted the offered menu from the waiter. She smiled at him in thanks.

"The lemon torte is just to die for," Charlotte said. She tapped at her own menu. "Oh, and you just have to try their sweet tea. Their beignets aren't good as yours, though," she said, faux-conspiratorial.

Tiana looked to Charlotte, away from the cafe's painted ceiling: dark, with pinpoint constellations dotting it and at the center of the room, a full moon painted white and gleaming. Nice enough, she supposed, but the Palace was nicer.

"I'm sure their beignets are just fine," she said.

Their meal arrived shortly: a little cool, the etouffee a little bland. Charlotte was right about the sweet tea, though, and Tiana made sure to ask for another glass.

"Oh, Tia, it's going to be so grand when your restaurant opens," said Charlotte. She beamed at Tiana from beneath her hat, the brim casting a shadow across her face. "You will let me know when you're opening, won't you? Daddy's been telling those boring men he works with all about it, and I want to make sure I get a reservation before those old catfish snap them up."

"No reservations," said Tiana firmly. "Not for the first month, anyway. I want people from all over to come in and try our food, see what we've done with the place."

Charlotte made a soft moue, her heavy mouth pursing. The bit of torte on her fork wobbled.

Tiana reached across the table to rest her hand upon Charlotte's. "Oh, Lottie, you know I want you there more than anyone else. You and Mama." She squeezed Charlotte's hand and smiled at her. "I might could see about saving a table for you, if you think you can make it."

Charlotte dropped her fork upon her plate, where it clattered noisily. "Oh, Tia!" she said. "You just tell me when and I'll be there, honey, I'll be there with bells on. And oh, I've got the perfect dress all picked out and the cutest hat; you should just see it, Tia."

"Well, you have to keep it to yourself till the twenty-third of July," said Tiana, prim. "I want it to be a surprise."

Charlotte shrieked. "Twenty-third!" she said. "That a Friday? Oh, heavens, I'm going to have to check my calendar, see if I'm going to have to cancel on someone. You set a date and you didn't even tell me!"

"I just did," Tiana laughed, as Charlotte waved the waiter down, shouting for a pen. "So I'm guessing this means I'll be seeing you about then?"

Charlotte fixed her with the sort of piercing stare that had frozen presumptive young men and condescending shop clerks alike. She drew herself upright. "Tia," she said, "I am deeply offended that you would even think I wouldn't go to the grand opening of my dearest friend's very own restaurant. There is nowhere else in this great, big world I would rather be on the twenty-third of July than Tiana's Palace."

"Just making sure," said Tiana. She folded her napkin neatly in fourths, then set it upon her plate. "I'm expecting quite the crowd, and I don't want to save a table if it's just going to sit there."

"If you give my table away," said Charlotte, "I will never, ever speak to you ever again, Tiana." Her affronted look wavered, then crumpled. She grabbed for Tiana's hand. "I don't know how you can stand it," she said. "Your dream's coming true!"

And maybe Tiana didn't jump up and down in her chair like Charlotte would, maybe she didn't bubble over like Charlotte did, but she _was_ excited, so much so she almost couldn't stand it, even now. Almost couldn't believe it. Her restaurant, she thought. Her restaurant.

"My dream's coming true," she said, joy like a balloon in her chest, swelling and swelling.

"Oh, Tia!" said Charlotte again, then nothing else, too overcome at last for words.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 01/22/2010, for livejournal user **ningen_demonai**, who purchased fic from me at **help_haiti**, a fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.


	20. She Who Holds the Purse Strings

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Thank you so much to everyone for your continuing kindness and encouragement! I'm sorry I can't offer you much else in turn. But hey, hopefully this will do well enough? Well, hopefully.

This story is set after the film.

* * *

**She Who Holds the Purse Strings**

* * *

He came to her on bent knee, his face turned up to her in supplication. He reached for her hand; he took it in his own; he clasped it to his breast.

"My wife," he called her. "My princess. Most beautiful, most generous, most wise. She shines bright as the evening star. Even the noble Solomon would do well to heed her words."

Tiana set her chin upon her hand, two fingers against her cheek, two folded to her palm. She smiled wryly down at him.

"Flatterer," she called him.

"I speak nothing but truth," he said, "as anyone can see, so obvious are your very many virtues."

"Shameless flatterer," she amended. "What do you want?"

"I?" he said. "What do I want?" His lashes fell over his eyes. He brought her fingers to his lips and murmured, "Only your love."

"Well, that's very sweet of you," she said. He picked tiny kisses between her knuckles, his head bent over her hand. The light caught in his dark hair, glinting. "Now do you mind telling me what this is really about?"

"Can a man not simply make love to his wife?" said Naveen. "Must he have another purpose?" Defiantly, fiercely, he kissed the back of her hand.

Tiana said nothing to this: she let him hold her hand, let him protest his innocence. In reply, she crooked but one eyebrow.

"But as you are so bent on maligning my character," he said to her palm, "then perhaps I ought strive to meet expectations. My princess, I find myself in dire straits. A calamitous circumstance has befallen me." He lingered over the joint of her thumb.

"Oh, my," said Tiana. "That does sound awful."

"So awful I cannot speak of it. And so I come to you, my amazing, generous wife." He abandoned his ministrations and lowered her hand, covering it with his own. He looked to her, his eyes steady upon hers, the line of his mouth solemn. "May I borrow fifty dollars?"

"What did you do with your last paycheck?" she demanded. She eyed him. "You got paid on Friday, mister."

"I made an investment," he said. "In the garment industry. I think it will pay out handsomely."

"You bought another suit," she translated.

"Yes, but it's a very flattering suit," he said. He smiled at her, the sort of slow, dirty smile that called up goosepimples all up and down her spine, made her want to cross her legs. "You will like it."

Tiana folded her arm across her chest; she left her legs uncrossed. "And what are you planning on doing with fifty dollars? Buying yourself another suit?"

Naveen made a dismissive noise deep in his throat. "I would not wear such a cheap suit," he said, derisive. "No, there's a new phonograph that I am very much interested in, and it is only, ahh, thirty to thirty-five dollars, but!" He rose eagerly to his feet, drawing her hand with him. "For an additional eight, I can also--"

"We already have a phonograph," she said, laughing.

"Yes, but I like this one," he said, plaintive. "Oh, you must see it. It's magnificent. So many features, and the design! Astounding."

Tiana looked him over. "We-ll," she said. "I suppose if you like it that much..."

He drew closer, intent upon her. A small, certain smile started across his lean face.

She looked up into that dear, eager face turned down to her own. She said, "You'll just have to set aside some money from your next paycheck." And she settled back into her chair.

Naveen pushed her hand away; how fickle his heart. "I take back my flattery," he said. "You are not generous. You are cruel."

"Sensible," she corrected.

"Miser," he accused.

"Spendthrift," she countered.

"Tyrant," he said.

"Excuse you?" said Tiana.

"I am excused," he retorted. He turned sharply on his heel and retreated, defeat heavy upon his shoulders. At the threshold he hesitated; he rested his hand upon the doorframe; he turned back to her. He said, "Tiana..."

"Next paycheck's in a week," she sang.

He rounded the corner.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 01/22/2010, for livejournal user **bluecheshirecat**, who purchased fic from me at **help_haiti**, a fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.


	21. Distracting

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

So I'm packing to go on a trip and it occurs to me, Hey! I should probably update before I hit the road! So, here you go. Thank you as ever to everyone: to those who've read this collection of stories and to those who've reviewed as well. Thank you for your kindnesses, your insights, and your continuing support. Thank you. :)

This story is set after the film.

* * *

**Distracting**

* * *

A touch, light upon the small of her back, now traveling up the long arch of her spine. Tiana marked her place in the ledger and twisted about.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Naveen looked at her, politely confused, his dark eyes rounded. "I am distracting you," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing. To demonstrate, he walked his fingers across her shoulders.

She rolled her shoulders, her nape prickling. "And why are you trying to distract me?"

"Well," he said pensively, "I suppose that would be because I am so bored."

For a moment, silence. Then:

"You can't think of anything better to do?" she said, so dryly her throat hurt.

"Yes, it's so tragic. I possess a limited imagination." He did not appear terribly bothered by this. He leaned near to her, his hand stilling upon her back. "But perhaps," he said, his voice deepening, "you could give me something to do." His eyes were dark, his gaze steady, the line of his mouth suggestive, soft, eminently kissable.

"You want me to tell you what to do," she said.

He pressed his hand to his chest and said, "I am yours to command. Anything you ask of me." His hand slid back down her spine, his palm heavy, his fingers spreading wide. "You need only say the word, my princess, and I obey."

Tiana considered him: his mouth, the line of his jaw, the nearness of him. She reached out to him, covered the hand he'd pressed to his breast with her own, leaned in real close, close enough she could feel his breath ghosting across her cheek.

"There is this one thing you could do," she said, "now that I think about it."

"Please," said Naveen, "tell me. Whatever it is, I will do it."

She pressed her lips to his ear, felt his jaw tremble beneath her touch, his fingers tighten upon her back. She said, "Let me do my work," and she turned back to the ledger.

"What," said Naveen, indignant. "What was that? That was horrible! I can't, I cannot believe you did that. You misled me. Shamelessly. You abused my intentions."

"Excuse me," said Tiana, so sweetly, "I don't mean to interrupt this, but I think I remember something about just saying the word and you obeying? Something like that."

Naveen drew himself upright. "Very well," he said. "As you have made your wishes clear. I leave you to your work."

"I love you, sweetheart!" she called after him, to which Naveen said darkly, "So you claim," before he vanished down the hall.

Tiana picked up her pen, neatly twirled it twice between her fingers, and set to work.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 01/22/2010, for livejournal user **grlnamedlucifer**, who purchased fic from me at **help_haiti**, a fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.


	22. Summer Night

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Thank you so much to everyone for your continued kindness and support! Thank you. I'm so, so glad you've enjoyed all these stories. And what the heck, here's another before I head off. See? I'm improving! Maybe! (But seriously, thank you.)

This story is set after the film. I'm giving it a precautionary rating of **M/R** for sexuality, though it isn't awfully explicit; better safe than sorry!

* * *

**Summer Night**

* * *

Naveen emerged from the bathroom in an aromatic cloud, every inch of him that wasn't clothed gleaming. The drawers didn't hide much. He stopped off at the dresser, rummaging through the drawers in search of something. His back stretched; his shoulders bunched, rippling. A bead of water ran alongside his spine, vanishing into the hollow low on his back.

Tiana tightened her hold on the July issue of _Ladies' International Cookery_ like the magazine was the only thing mooring her.

"Where on Earth is your shirt?" she said.

He shut the dresser drawer, frowning. "It's too hot for a shirt," he said. "You know, you Americans wear too many clothes at night."

She scooted over to give him room enough to slide into bed beside her. His leg brushed hers, his skin still damp, warm from the shower; his hip pressed snug against her hip. The condensation in his curls glimmered in the thin light of their room. He reached for a magazine of his own. Tiana followed the line of his arm.

"Maybe," she said, "that's because we Americans know how to dress like decent people." She folded the page corner down, then closed _Ladies' International Cookery_ on a promising chocolate mousse recipe.

He settled back against the headboard, the sheets pooled in his lap. He grinned sidelong at her. "Of course," he conceded. "That must be it. Or perhaps you are all simply prudish. Or perhaps--"

Tiana set her hand on his chest. No longer slick, but still faintly wet, his breast rose against her fingers. Her heart zipped. She curled her fingers.

She said, "And where'd you get an idea like that?"

"You must promise me you will not get angry," said Naveen.

"I'm not making any promises," she said.

He shrugged. "Then I'm afraid you will never know."

"Well," said Tiana, her head feeling like it was full of air, "how about I teach you a lesson?" and before he had the chance to come up with something clever to say - before she'd time enough to fluster herself into backing down - she kissed that wide, too-clever mouth of his.

He rose a little, chasing after her. She pushed on his chest and down he went, sliding down the backboard and into the mess of pillows and sheets. He blinked up at her, shining curls fanning around his ears.

"Tiana," he said.

"Naveen," she said, her heart beat-beat-beating.

She slung her leg across his waist and leaned down to kiss him again. Her fingers spread wide, wider across his chest. He palmed the small of her back through her discreet chemise. His breath shivered against her lips: his mouth opened beneath hers.

One kiss, two kisses, three, building one atop the other: lazy, now something else. Her nails pinched at his chest. At her back, his fingers itched. He was right, she thought. It was awful hot.

Tiana peeled out of her chemise as neatly as she could. His hand slid up and up her back, following the bare trail as she pulled it higher. She didn't feel at all beautiful yanking that over her head, but Naveen drew her closer, leaning up to nuzzle the swell of her breast. She pushed down on his chest again. He fell back, his eyes black in the shadow she cast across him.

"Now I don't want any of your smart talk," she said. "You hear?"

"Yes, yes," he said. He smiled, slow, and covered her hand upon his breast. "As you wish, my princess."

"Not one more word," she warned.

He mimed turning a key between his lips. She bent to him, kissing him again and again until his lashes fell dark over his eyes. His chest trembled. She ran her fingers down the slope of his chest, down his flat belly, which fluttered beneath her fingers. He said nothing then or when she snapped the band of his drawers; he shucked them with a flourish.

"You're picking those up," she told him. Naveen held his hands out as if to say, Oh, well, then he turned his face up to her, his throat arching.

Long, long kisses: she drew them out. He shifted beneath her, his fingers scratching down her back. When she pressed closer, not at all close enough, his breath stuttered, glancing across her cheek. Her heart thumped, and low in her belly, cradled high between her thighs, she itched; she ached; she burned all the way up.

Tiana cupped his jaw in her hands, her fingers sweeping the curls thick behind his ears. She kissed him once more, lingering. His hand flexed on her hip, tightening, then gentling. His lips moved, parting: she thought he said her name. He closed his eyes as she dropped little kisses to the left of his mouth, then the right. His chest rose and his head fell further back, his throat arching higher, his chest, his hips angled down. His skin was slicker now, the line of his throat lifted in offering glinting.

She kissed him softly again, taking what he gave, then she sank down upon him, holding him close as he pressed his brow to her shoulder and mouthed her name into her collar again, again, again, his breath like fire rolling across her skin.

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 02/03/2010, for livejournal user **bluecheshirecat**, who purchased fic from me at **help_haiti**, a fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.


	23. A Lesson Hotly Learned

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _The Princess and the Frog._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

I don't know why I never got around to crossposting this last story, but here it is, finally. Unless inspiration strikes in the near or distant future, this collection should be considered complete. Thank you so, so very much to everyone who has read, reviewed, and/or favorited **Blue Skies and Sunshine**! I never once expected the incredible response this collection of silly stories received, and it means so much more to me than I can tell you. Thank you. Thank you. As cheesy as this sounds, you have honestly brought blue skies and sunshine into my life with your encouragement, your debate, and your affection.

Thank you.

* * *

**A Lesson Hotly Learned**

**

* * *

**

Naveen descended the stairs at his usual lackadaisacal pace, his heels clopping one-two-three.

"What," said Tiana, "are you wearing?"

He shrugged into a pinstripe jacket, patterned to match his wool vest. He spread his hands, showy. "Do you like it?"

As a matter of fact she did: the jacket drawn neatly across his wide shoulders, the blue ascot bright at his throat. His trousers were long and narrow, fitted to his hips, his thighs. The effect was profound. Tiana resolved never to tell him.

"You sure you want to go out in that?" she said. "You do realize it's still summer and you're wearing wool."

Naveen tugged on his cuff, pulling it even with his wrist. "Some sacrifices must be made in the name of fashion," he said. He smiled, very well pleased with himself. "And you do like it, don't you?"

She pulled her hat down over her ears. She held her chin high. "I never said anything like that."

"Oh, but I can tell," he said, following her out into the sweltering early morning. "And that is reward enough. To know my exceptionally discerning wife appreciates a fine suit, worn by a man who knows how best to fill it out."

"It's not that good a suit."

"You're not a very good liar. I'm just noting," he said. "For reference."

"Should've worn cotton," she sang.

"I will not dignify that with a response," said Naveen.

* * *

For lunch he accompanied her to a small cafe a respectable hike from the Palace, deep within the French Quarter, where they ate outside. Beneath the fluttering, dark canopy, Naveen affected ease and absolute comfort. He'd left the jacket back at the Palace. His ascot, once so neatly pressed, lay half-crumpled against his breast.

Tiana stirred her iced tea, then sucked the spoon dry. She smiled at him over the long, silver handle. "Mighty brave of you," she said, "eating outside like this."

"Oh, but the weather," he said. He set his glass down, half-empty. "It's so beautiful. The sky is so clear. The air so ... humid." He raised his glass.

She twirled her spoon at him. "Now aren't you hot in that get-up?"

"I am the prince of Maldonia," said Naveen, with dignity, "where it rains only on the coast and sometimes in the mountains. This heat is nothing to me."

His collar, she noted, was not quite so tight as it had been that morning. A fine strip of sweat showed beneath it, shimmering as he lowered his head. His curls rested limp against his scalp, twisting flat upon his brow.

"If you want," she said, "you could head back to the house. It's not that far."

"And leave you to dine alone?" He scoffed. "I would never do such a thing."

Tiana shrugged her hands. "Suit yourself. But you're going to want to order another glass of whatever it is you're drinking."

"Tiana, please," said Naveen. He smiled rakishly at her, overcoming wilted curls, a flat ascot, and rumpled sleeves. "It's much too early in the day for that."

* * *

Getting the Palace ready for the evening kept her busy. She didn't see much of Naveen between handling yet another crisis in the kitchen that threatened to upset the entire menu and a shortage of clean napkins. Tiana slipped away long enough to snag Louis between sets.

"You seen what Naveen's wearing?" Louis demanded, first thing. "I know that stuff's bad for y'all when it's hot like this."

"How's he doing?" said Tiana. "Has he been pushing water?"

"He is fine!" shouted Naveen from the other end of the stage. "He's wonderful, thank you for asking."

"He's about like that," said Louis.

"Bad temper?"

"Pretty bad," he said.

"I'll talk to him," said Tiana.

She found Naveen sitting in one of the darker corners, his feet resting on the chair opposite. She nudged his legs down. He opened one eye, then closed it.

"What do you want?" he grumbled.

"What happened to those fancy manners of yours?" she said. Gone the same place his ascot had gone, she expected. He'd unbuttoned his collar and even in the cooled air of the Palace the small v of skin at his throat shone.

She took the chair and leaned forward. "Here. Drink this." She touched the glass of ice water to his face and he started. His fingers brushed across her wrist. He took the glass from her.

"I did tell you," she said, gently.

He closed his eyes again. His face was drawn, the long angles somehow longer. "Yes," he said, "you were right and I was not. Please keep the gloating down. My head hurts. Like Louis sat on it."

"That's not a very kind thing to say," said Tiana.

Naveen made a face that resolved into something sheepish. "I will apologize to Louis later."

"Later's right," she said. He cracked open an eye, dark and gleaming. "What you're going to do now is finish that glass of water and another one just to be safe, and you're going to lie down in the back for a couple hours. Without the vest."

"What is one more indignity," he said. He made to lower his glass, the other hand rising to his vest.

"Not in here," she said, exasperated. She caught his wrist. "This isn't that kind of establishment."

"But think of how exciting it would be," said Naveen. "The reviews. The publicity."

"The police," said Tiana.

He frowned, considering this.

She cupped his cheek. "You _are_ out of it," she murmured. She leaned closer, to drop a kiss on his sticky brow. His eyelids fluttered low and when he sighed, it came out long and tired. She leaned back.

"All right," she said. "Upsy-daisy."

He started to rise, then sank heavily. His mouth pinched. "In a moment," he said.

So worn, his face. His shoulders bent, sagging. She stroked the back of his hand and his fingers twitched, then twisted. He turned his hand over and held hers tight. Even his cuffs he'd unbuttoned, turning them back from his wrists.

"I think next time," said Naveen, "I will take your advice into consideration."

She smiled at him through the shadows and said, "Come on. Let's get you situated somewhere more comfortable."

* * *

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 02/02/2010, as a gift for lj user **silverfyshxin** from lj user **causscion**, who purchased fic from me at **help_haiti**, the fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.


End file.
